A Bird in the Hand
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz. Jack has an epiphany regarding Mrs Argus.


Title: A Bird in the Hand

Author: Mindy

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Tina's etc

Spoilers: "Argus"

Pairing: Jack/Liz, mentions of Jack/Avery, Jack/Nancy

Summary: Jack has an epiphany regarding Mrs Argus.

-x-x-x-

Walking into her office, Liz was greeted by the sight of all her candles lit, plus a few extras, and Jack in the middle of the floor, down on one knee, looking slightly wobbly.

She glanced about, confused. "Ah…what is this? What's going on?"

Jack gazed up at her. "I've had an epiphany, Lemon."

"Is that some sort of cocktail?" she asked, taking in his wrinkled shirt, crooked tie and flushed face.

"No," he said. "A real epiphany. About us."

"Us? What?" She shook her head, glanced behind her at the darkened writer's room. "What are you doing down there, Jack? And how long have you just been kneeling there waiting for someone to walk in?"

"Quite some time," he admitted. "My lower legs have lost all feeling."

She winced. "Oh boy…"

"And I was waiting," he added, voice low, eyes intent: "for you."

Liz didn't hear his tone or notice the look in his eye though, because spotting Argus, nested comfortably in her chair, distracted her. "Hey. What's that _thing_ doing in my chair?"

Jack looked over at his pet peacock, happily ensconced in one of her sweaters. "I think he's comforted by your scent."

"It looks dead," she muttered. "Is it dead?"

"No, he's just a little drunk."

Liz snorted in amusement. "You let your weird bird drink booze?"

Jack turned back to her, his tone imperious despite his pose. "Don't insult the bird, Lemon. He likes you. And he's extremely intelligent. In fact, I believe that that magnificent specimen currently sleeping one off houses the dear departed soul of Don Geiss himself."

"O-okay," she mused slowly. "Just how much have you had?"

"He came to me," Jack continued, waxing wistful: "He returned to this earthly plane in the form of Argus to deliver one last lesson. A lesson of life. A lesson in love. From the one man whose opinion I regard more highly than any other."

"Oh brother."

Jack shook his head, blue eyes ominously aglow. "Lemon! How can you not see it?"

"See what?"

"Don't you get it?" he murmured urgently. "Argus marking you was a _sign_."

"Excuse me?"

"He wasn't claiming you as his wife. He was pointing you out as mine."

She drew back, one palm lifting. "Okay. _What?_"

"It was Don," he insisted, voice full of admiration, affection. "Guiding me from beyond the grave."

"Is that…" She glanced about the room again, advancing on him. "Is that what this is? Are you _seriously_ telling me that you are _proposing_ to me based on the fact that some mini dinosaur your mentor loved waved its wing in my face?"

"I've always wanted to make him proud," Jack told her tearfully. "And this is my last chance to honor his wishes."

"Oh, well," she muttered, eyes wide: "that makes it perfectly alright then."

"Don approved of you, Lemon. He liked you from the moment you met. He knew we were destined for each other, perfect for each other."

Her face screwed up. "We're not perfect for each other."

"Well…" Jack stalled, shrugging a shoulder: "we're perfect in an imperfect way."

"Look," she told him firmly: "I know that plenty of crazy ladies have said yes to your crazy proposals but that doesn't mean I'm one of them. And can I just remind you that you already have too many girlfriends? The last thing you need is a fiancée."

"You're right," he answered unwaveringly. "What I need is a wife. Someone I can trust and talk to. Someone to bear my offspring-"

"Ew."

"Someone to live the rest of my life with in peace and prosperity." Jack gazed at her some more. "Don knew that. He knew me. And he picked you."

"I see," she huffed. "And what about Nancy? And Avery?"

"Well, you know what they say, Lemon."

She eyed him warily. "What d'they say?"

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."

She beckoned at him, rolling her eyes. "Alright. Get up from there, you jackass. _Now_."

Jack did not budge. "Not until you give me an answer."

"This is completely ridiculous," she fumed, cheeks turning pink and arms beginning to gesture emphatically. "And what is with _everyone_ needing to get married all of a sudden?"

"Is that a yes?" Jack asked.

"NO!"

"Is it a no?"

Liz opened her mouth but was stopped from responding by Argus suddenly springing to life, mounting her desk and spreading his magnificent tail feathers. "Oh my God, it's alive!" she gasped. She took a step back, one hand at her throat. And when she caught her breath, turning her attention back to Jack, he'd pulled a box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a glittering engagement ring.

"Elizabeth Lemon-"

Her eyes closed. "Oh my God…"

"Would you do me the very great honour-"

Her head dropped into her hand. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

"-of becoming my wife?"

She sighed. "Jack-"

"Marry me, Liz," he urged, hopeful, intoxicated eyes scanning her face. "Say yes. Make Argus, the spirit of Don Geiss and myself the happiest of our kind in the entire world."

Liz just looked at him for a moment with an expression of mingled incredulity and exasperation. Finally, she answered: "You're drunk. And I'm walking away."

"You're walking away?"

"I am." She retrieved her bag and coat from the back of the door. "You better make sure you blow out all these candles before you leave." She frowned, waving a finger at Argus: "And get that freakshow off of my stuff."

"Will you at least promise me you'll think about it?" he asked, watching her turn and walk out the door.

Liz didn't answer though. Only silence greeted his request.

"Lemon?" he called, listening for a response. "Lemon?"

None came.

"Lemon?" Jack called again, a little louder, leaving a little more time for her reply. When there wasn't any, he peered out the door, still down on one knee, ring in hand. But there was only darkness, only silence. Except for Argus' pitiful whine as his feathers collapsed in crushing disappointment.

Jack drew a breath. And tried one last time. "…Lemon?"

_END. _


End file.
